


The Lost One

by Dolorous_nq



Series: the many ways Regulus Black could have lived [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Blindness, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Gen, Horcruxes, Interrogation, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, POV Albus Dumbledore, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolorous_nq/pseuds/Dolorous_nq
Summary: Before leaving for the Department of Mysteries, Albus Dumbledore delves too deep within Kreacher's mind.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Albus Dumbledore, Regulus Black & Kreacher, Regulus Black & Sirius Black
Series: the many ways Regulus Black could have lived [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875568
Comments: 24
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is based on a headcanon I've had for a while

Albus Dumbledore walked into the very empty Grimmauld Place, which held neither a threat nor an urgent matter.

Severus’s message implied a level of urgency, especially when it concerned a threat to Sirius’s life. It would take a certain level of danger for the Potion Master to care about the fate of Sirius Black.

A strange sound came from the kitchen; it almost sounded like a giggle.

Walking into the kitchen, Albus found the withering House-elf Kreacher wiping the dining table. Every second or so, the elf would snicker with unnatural glee.

When Albus cleared his throat, Kreacher turned to him and gaped at him for a moment, then the elf broke into a fit of laughter as he stared at the Headmaster.

“Kreacher.”

“Professor Dumbledore,” said Kreacher, still chuckling, “Kreacher welcomes the Professor to the Noble House of Black. Kreacher has a message from Master Sirius, to tell the Professor that Master Sirius and his Blood Traitors and Half Blood friends have gone to rescue the foolish Potter boy.”

The smile that the old House-elf was wearing, could only be described as disturbing. Albus sensed the deception at play, though he could not say he was surprised it was coming from Kreacher. _He had warned Sirius about him._

“But Master Sirius forgot to order Kreacher to tell the Professor where the boy was. Kreacher, sadly, cannot tell the Professor where they went.”

“Yes, how unfortunate.”

As the elf was about to start laughing again, Albus’s wand was at his temple, _“Legilimens.”_

Moving into Kreacher’s mind and memories was easy, simple, almost like swimming in still waters.

He looked for the most important memory, the one he came here for, and effortlessly found it. Severus’s message to the rest of the Order was different than the one that reached him, and it was no longer about Sirius’s whereabouts. _Harry. Walking into a trap. Department of Mysteries._

If Dumbledore was a wiser man, he would have stopped there and set out to help the Order and get Harry to safety; but his curious nature always got the better of him, and he had questions that Kreacher’s mind was more than ready to disclose.

He reached for the source of the elf’s glee, and brief memories swam to the surface, Buckpeak’s whines, Sirius rushing upstairs, Kreacher telling Harry that his godfather is gone, and Kreacher’s laughter melodied through-out all of them.

The laughter died out when one memory filled the seen.

He was looking up at the angry and displeased face of Sirius as he bellowed, _“Get out!”_

The face then transformed into something else, someone else, someone that smiled wide, and only spoke in gentle tones with a highly dignified demeaner, _“Kreacher will bring the Black family honor.”_

The loyalty that Kreacher felt towards Narcissa Malfoy was almost palpable in the swirl of memories afterwards. Dumbledore would have stopped there if it was not for the surge of affection that rushed at Narcissa’s smile; there was more, so his instinct pushed him further.

As her face morphed, for a second, Albus thought he was looking at a younger Sirius, but the boy in the memory had wider eyes than his and a rounder face. He realized he was looking at the younger Black brother, Regulus.

Instead of swimming gently into view like the others, memories of Regulus had harsher turns and whirled across fast. The rush of memories made him unable to catch any of Regulus’s words; it even felt like Kreacher was chasing them around, too.

However, one scene came slowly into view, and Albus felt Kreacher’s emotion quiver at it with feeble attempts to drive him away. That only made the Professor more eager to push forward.

He was looking at a gaunt looking Regulus who had a worried look in his eyes, as he placed a trembling hand on the elf’s shoulder, _“Kreacher, you must tell no one about this. No one can know.”_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more about this headcanon:  
> I know that Dumbledore suspected the cave because he remembered the story from the orphanage, but I still think that's a way too lucky of a guess 
> 
> especially when you realize that the only other person who knew about it was kreacher, who Dumbledore did Legilimency on, less than a year before he found the cave... coincidence?
> 
> and Dumbledore came pretty late to the DOM, but he said "...I arrived in Grimmauld Place shortly after they had all left for the Ministry..”
> 
> hmm shady..
> 
>  _Anyway,_ this story might stir from canon in the next chapters, but I'm still working on it..
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *manipulative Dumbledore alert*

_“We have to keep you hidden.”_

_“You’ll be okay, I’ll make it right.”_

_“You must stay in the house, Kreacher.”_

_“Mother can’t know. You mustn’t speak to anyone about it.”_

_“I’m sorry, Kreacher.”_

Delving into Kreacher’s mind has become a weekly undertaking that Dumbledore started after the elf’s disinclined Master has sent him to work at Hogwarts.

Each time he was called, Kreacher trembled as he approached the Headmaster’s desk. His laughter and joy long dead ever since his exile from Grimmauld Place. Not to mention his immense reluctance to relive the memories that Dumbledore was fishing for.

But as much as he tried to push forward and reach for the memories of the young Regulus Black, Albus was always flung back, as if fierce waves surrounded those particular memories. It was magic stronger than any Occlumency he has ever encountered. It was an old and powerful form of enchantments, familiar only to those who are bound to it.

It was not in Dumbledore’s nature to yield so easily. So far, he has been catching glimpses of one night in particular, before he was forced to retreat. In those glimpses, Albus saw Regulus consoling Kreacher, as the shuddering elf laid on the floor soaking wet. Then, the orders of secrecy came; the orders were specific and detailed. It made the young man sound sure and self-possessed, which would be easily believed if his voice didn’t quiver with every other word.

The state that Kreacher was in, and the genuine concerned and remorseful look on Regulus Black’s face, told him that what was hidden held great consequences. And as it appeared that Kreacher’s mind was more than capable to uphold his Master’s orders, Albus must turn to a different approach.

When Albus withdrew back into his office, Kreacher’s eyes were bloodshot and tears were streaming on his crinkled face.

“Professor Dumbledore mustn’t snoop into the Black family’s matters,” croaked the still trembling elf, “The Professor must keep his Mudblood-loving nose out of Master Regulus’s business.”

It was the same drivel every week, like an involuntary response to anyone pursuing the family’s secrets.

“Was Master Regulus good to you, Kreacher?”

The House-elf raised his eyes and gawked in shock, before nodding, “Yes,” he answered with a sniffle.

That could be his best hope to getting at least some information. If Kreacher’s subconscious mind is magically protected, his words might still let something spell, “He sounded like a good friend.”

Kreacher gave another shaky nod.

“Did he attend to you when you were hurt?”

“He did!” The elf sobbed.

“Surely, not much attention was necessary, a mere wave of his wand or a simple order would’ve made you better,” Dumbledore said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No!” Kreacher gave another sob, “Master Regulus carried Kreacher by himself, and covered Kreacher with blankets using no magic! Sweet Master Regulus brought Kreacher the water Kreacher was begging for, without even lifting a wand!” 

The elf was fully crying now, with his hands covering his face.

“Very kind of-”

“Yes! The kindest Master!” 

Albus hummed, “Especially when you were so sick that you couldn’t conjure water on your own. Must’ve been terrible.”

“Most terrible it was!” The elf wailed, “Kreacher saw terrible things! Kreacher would’ve died in that rotten lake if it wasn’t for-”

Kreacher choked on his last words as his eyes widened in realization. The elf abruptly fell to the ground and started banging his head on the floor.

Albus would have been smiling, if Kreacher’s shrieks weren’t so disconcertingly loud and had the old Headmasters’ Portraits yelling for order. _This is what the muggles would call a bingo._

“Kreacher, as your appointed warden, I order you to stop punishing yourself.”

“Kreacher… must… be … punished,” the elf grounded out, as he held himself against the floor, “Kreacher… disobeyed Master Regulus’s… orders. Kreacher must not… be speaking to no one about…” 

He broke into another sobbing fit.

As he wailed, Albus tried to simply nudge into the elf’s mind to see if he could get a glimpse of what he was crying about. But it was for naught, Kreacher was too emotionally distraught to think of anything but of ways he could punish himself.

With more orders specifically forbidding him from doing any further punishments, Dumbledore sent Kreacher back to the kitchens.

Even though, Albus finally got some answers, it seemed it only brought him even more questions. _A rotten lake. Seeing terrible things. Begging for water._

What happened that night that made Kreacher so helpless and unable to perform simple magic? What did Regulus Black, who is the kindest master, have to do with it to feel so guilty about it?

There is one person who could answer all of his questions. Albus, though, was not exactly eager at the idea of visiting Azkaban.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Dumbledore sounds like a terrible person here, but I feel like he is someone who wouldn't mind getting his hand dirty for the 'greater good'
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, and let me know what you think <3


	3. Chapter 3

Arranging a visit to Azkaban has not been easy; especially after what happened with in the last year with the breakout and Albus’s near arrest. So, it took three weeks for him to finally get entry approval, and another two to approve of the prisoner he was visiting.

This was not his first visit to the infamous prison, so he knew most of the procedures. And after he finished signing enough papers to fill a Divination classroom, he was led into the towers of Azkaban by a chubby old security officer.

“We got a bit of a shock when we heard who you’re visiting, professor. But again, you never pick the obvious ones, do you?”

Albus only hummed in response, as he followed him further into the tower passing a few passageways along the way.

“Don’t know what you could want from that one, a mental case I tell you! Well, if you ask me, they all are!”

“They?”

“The Blacks! Oh, everyone talks about the murdering psychopath, Sirius Black, and the deranged harpy, Bellatrix, but this one is something else though, I warren you, professor.”

“I was told he mostly keeps to his cell,” said Dumbledore, “Has he been causing trouble?”

“That’s what’s mental about him!” The guard hollered, “Everyone here is either screaming, crying, or dying, all but him. You take one look at him and you get the feeling he’s planning to murder you and your family while you sleep,” he then leaned closer and whispered, “and you know the eeriest thing he did?”

“Tell me,” Dumbledore said, he needed to know what he’ll be working with, a desperate man is easy enough, but a man deranged… now that’s a different story.

“You know the massive break out that happened months ago?”

“Hard to forget.”

“Yeah, well it happened around his tower,” the guard said, “And when we came to check the tower, after the escape, we found a gaping hole where his wall was and him shivering in the corner, he didn’t even try to escape!”

“Hm, I’m sure he had his reasons.”

They’ve reached the cell tower, where the cold was staggering, and faint screams and whimpers could be heard. They stopped in front of one cell and the guard waved his wand and the transparent vale around the rails faded to reveal a chamber so small and dirty it would be unfit for a boggart to live in. 

Albus got closer to get a better look at the cot in the corner, where a slip of man laid. He turned to the guard and gave him a nod; he didn’t leave before sending a few dirty looks at the prisoner.

Albus looked into the cell, and cleared his throat to speak, before he was interrupted.

“I don’t know where they are!”

“Pardon me?”

The body on the cot sat up, “Sirius and Bella! I don’t where they went, and I don’t know how they escaped. So, if you can please be kind enough and leave me in peace!”

The Regulus Black from Kreacher’s memories was a handsome young man of 18 years; the man in front him looked fit to be 70 when he should be in his thirties. His hair was streaked with grey and his face lost all of its roundness and only sharp edges remained. It was his eyes that was the most disturbing of all; instead of the dark grey the Blacks were known for, his were pale and foggy, almost like a dark cloud was passing through them.

“I’m not here for them, Mr. Black, I’m here to visit you.”

“Visit?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t had a visitor since my mother died.”

“Yes, my condolences.”

The prisoner’s eyebrows furrowed, “Who are you?”

If it wasn’t for his earlier statements, Albus would have questioned his memory. The man’s eyes were wandering in his direction, but never landing on him, as if he had no ability to focus them.

“I’m a friend of Kreacher,” Dumbledore decided to test, “He spoke very highly of you.”

Regulus Black’s face turned to stone at the mention of the House-elf’s name. And Albus knew he was right to pursue this venture.

“Kreacher?” 

“Yes, you must remember him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Regulus croaked, “And, is he doing well?”

“Oh yes,” Dumbledore answered, “he hates being away from Grimmauld Place, but he’s well enough.”

Regulus nodded as his hand fidgeted around the cot.

“As I was saying, he speaks of you often that I became very intrigued to meet you, Mr. Black.”

Regulus growled in response, _“Who are you?”_

“I found it quite difficult to believe you don’t remember your old Headmaster, Mr. Black.”

“Dumbledore?” Regulus breathed, “I should’ve known.”

“Yes, and I would say you should’ve recognized, but I don’t think your eyes are doing too well on recognizing anymore.”

The man’s lips lifted in what could have been a smile, “I haven’t been able to see anything but darkness for ten years,” he said with his hazy eyes turned to the ceiling, “Give or take.”

“Again, my condolences.”

Regulus gave another nod, “What really brings you here, professor? Kreacher stories couldn’t have been that enticing.”

“True,” said Dumbledore, “But it was in the stories he wouldn’t speak of that I came to you for, Mr. Black.”

“Aha, alas, I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Regulus deflected.

If it wasn’t for the Azkaban guards confiscating his wand, Albus would have been shuffling through Regulus Black’s mind by now. And since all attempts at having Regulus’s unseeing eyes meet his own have failed so far, wandless Legilimency was out of the question, too.

“Mr. Black, your poor attempts at avoiding my questions are hopeless,” said Dumbledore, “I have approved weekly visits to your cell, and I assure you, I hardly take no for an answer.”

After a beat of silence, Regulus spoke, “I wasn’t aware you asked a question, professor.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore concurred, “I want you to tell me what happened the night Kreacher almost died, the night he came to you soaking wet and shivering, the one you told him to tell no one about, the time you said you’ll make it right.”

Regulus Black’s face did very little as Albus spoke, but then he shook his head, “That’s a lot of talking, for someone who is supposed to tell no one.”

“Yes, I have my ways.”

“Clearly.”

For a moment they were locked in a strange stare down; Albus looking at Regulus, while Regulus stared at the wall in front of him.

The silence was broken by Regulus’s whisper, “I _wanted_ to make it right, but I was too late.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the story turns into an au, and in the next chapter I'll explain how Regulus is alive
> 
> I hope you liked it, please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Regulus’s words were a mere whisper, almost to himself. Albus assumed that is to be expected of someone who has been in Azkaban for almost fifteen years.

“Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Black?”

“Not really,” Regulus shook his head, “But I heard you don’t take no for an answer. And please stop using my sir name, it makes me feel as if I’m in school all over again”

Albus chuckled, “Alright, Regulus, please continue.”

Regulus kept his head down in silence for a moment, before he sighed and started, “Years ago, when I was 18, the Dark Lord asked for Kreacher, saying he required an elf. I had no way to refuse him without facing a very unfortunate fate, so I agreed. When I told Kreacher, he said he would be honored to be of service to the Dark Lord.”

He took a deep breath then continued, “Before he left, I told him to do what was asked of him then come home. When he did, he was drenched and barely breathing. You see, the Dark Lord made him drink an Emerald Potion and had wards to prevent any water summoning spells, so Kreacher had to turn to a lake to get a drink of water. The lake, however, was filled with Inferi ready to drown whoever dares to disturb their waters.

“If I hadn’t asked him to come back, he would’ve been dead at the bottom of that lake. Yet, if I hadn’t agreed to send him with the Dark Lord in the first place, he wouldn’t have had to suffer through any of it.”

Albus took pity in the frail looking man in front of him. He, most of all, understood what it feels like to bring harm to someone so close to you. Someone innocent of it all, and was only in the wrong place because of someone else’s mindless mistakes.

“We mustn’t dwell on what we can no longer amend,” it was something Albus often repeated to himself; sometimes he can almost believe it.

“Well, it’s hard not to dwell when there’s nothing but darkness surrounding you,” Regulus threw back.

“I suppose so,” said Dumbledore, “I’m sorry but I have to ask you to go on, as I know there’s more to this story.”

“Yes, of course,” Regulus nodded slowly, “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, professor, the potion, the lake, the Inferi, they all served a purpose. The Dark Lord set everything up to protect one thing. And he must’ve taken Kreacher to test it, and he left him to die so no one would know about it.

“After Kreacher, drank the potion the Dark Lord dropped a locket inside; a locket so valuable, my friend almost died for it.”

“A locket.”

The memory of the old House-elf, Hokey, flashed though Dumbledore’s mind. Yes… of course it’s the locket. He remembered the hunger on Tom’s face as he held it above all of Hepzibah Smith’s treasures. 

Albus had not doubted that Tom would turn it into a Horcrux, but he should have guessed it will have the highest protection of all. It would not have been thrown in a broken-down shack with a few blood curses on it. No Death Eater would have been trusted to keep it safe, either, when it was so easily recognizable as Slytherin’s own. And Albus could even make the wild guess that he would have cared enough that it once belonged to his mother. 

A mind disabling potion and a lake of Inferi seemed fitting; if not a tad paranoiac.

“Yes, a locket,” said Regulus.

Albus studied the prisoner closer, there was more; there seemed to be no end to Regulus's attempts to hold his secrets close.

“You said you wanted to make it right, what did you mean?”

“You don’t miss much, professor,” Regulus gave a sigh and turned his hazy eyes back in his direction, “The locket was important, that’s what I gathered. And after a few weeks of research I recognized it for what it was.”

“You did?”

“Yes, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Regulus smiled a sad smile as he nodded, “A Horcrux. When I found out, I knew I had to do something. I no longer wanted to stand aside and watch as others got hurt. I was young and foolish, but I was driven, and I decided I’ll take it and destroy it. And maybe it’ll make up for what happened. If I did something right.

“But I was too late. I wanted to do the right thing, but I was no Sirius; I wasn’t a Gryffindor to rush in with half a plan to save the world. I planned, I studied, and I made backup plans and studied some more.”

Regulus gave a dark chuckle, “And before I knew it, the Dark Lord was defeated, and I was shoved in a dark cell next to none other than Sirius. It turns out all the Black brothers know how to do is make a big mess out of everything.”

“Or maybe you’re both cursed with terrible luck,” Dumbledore tried to console the younger wizard, “Sirius never betrayed the Potter’s and was framed by-”

“Pettigrew?” Regulus asked, and when Dumbledore didn’t answer, he continued, “Of course, he was. He screamed his name for a whole year until his voice was raw.”

“Regulus,” called Dumbledore, “Perhaps, it’s not too late.”

Regulus’s head tilted in hesitation as his eyes wandered around the cell.

“If you tell me where the lake is, I can finish what you started, you can make it right if you tell how I can find it. I have been hunting for Voldemort’s Horcruxes for years now, and if you can tell me where I can find the Locket, we’ll be one step closer to ending Voldemort for good.”

“Horcruxes?” Regulus breathed, “He made more than the Locket?’

“Yes,” answered Dumbledore, “He did, but if you tell me about the lake and we can get-”

“A cave,” Regulus interrupted, “It’s in a cave.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically this is the end of this story but there is one more chapter I will upload and it will be an epilogue
> 
> if it wasn't clear: This is a pre-canon au where Kreacher is taken to the cave a bit later than canon and Regulus takes a bit too long planning, and the war ends before he could retrieve the locket.
> 
> this story ends with Regulus telling Dumbledore more about the cave and giving Kreacher permission to show him his memories. And so when Harry and Dumbledore get to the cave they'll actually find the real locket.
> 
> let me know what you think, and look forward for the epilogue <33


	5. Epilogue

In the 17 years that Regulus has been in Azkaban, it has never been as animated as it was during this last year.

It started with more Death Eaters escaping in the masses; until Azkaban laid almost bare and silent except for him, where he stayed content within his corner of darkness, always listening. 

Few weeks after the last breakout, new prisoners started to get herded in the numbers. They were not the standard prisoners Azkaban usually takes in. they were more of the whimpery sort who apologized with one step and swore they were witches or wizards with the other.

It was when the guards started calling them _mudbloods_ , that Regulus realized that the Wizarding World was more than likely lost to the Dark Lord.

It seemed he _was_ too late after all.

Regulus’s cell has been changing every other week, as more muggleborns and blood traitors were moved in. Until he was finally moved into the lowest security tower; apparently in the new regime, a pureblood Death Eater was deemed not as threatening as a 15 year old _mudblood_. 

It mattered not to Regulus where they put him. The Darkness was always the same whether he was in the highest tower or in a mere a dungeon. It is all he knew, and it is all he needed. The dementors could not get him in the Darkness. And it is where pain and guilt could be sorted into their own places; it is where he kept his sanity when the madness tried to swallow him whole.

When spring came, the muggleborns were released. And unlike when he first heard them, this time they were celebrating with glee as they hollered that the war has finally ended. 

It was strange that Regulus found himself happy at the end of a war he didn’t even know had started in the first place.

And Azkaban was once again filled with the manic screams of Death Eater, which was much more befitting of Azkaban. Yet, he still hasn’t felt the chill of a dementor ever since the last muggleborn left. 

They came to move him again, to what Regulus assumed was a cell with a higher level of security that would be more appropriate for his dark nature and past, since life seemed to have gone back to normal. 

The guards were different, however; they led rather than pushed him. And when he stumbled, they helped him up rather than kicked him down as Regulus was used to. They were almost _decent._

They opened a door and walked Regulus through. But instead of leaving him to find the cot on his own, someone steered him and sat him on what felt like a bench.

“Thank you,” Regulus heard himself say. He couldn’t remember the last time he thanked someone.

“Not a problem,” answered the person who was closest to him, “Would you mind waiting here, Mr. Black? Hopefully they won’t be long.”

“What am I waiting for?” 

“You’ll see,” the person answered unhelpfully.

Just when he was about to argue, he heard the door close. And Regulus guessed he will just have to wait and _see_ what kind of trouble life would throw his way.

His wait lasted only seconds, when he was startled with a loud pop that rang throughout the room.

“Oh,” a gasp came from his right, “Master Regulus!”

Recognition hit Regulus instantly, he whispered “Kreacher?”

As soon he said it, a small body was flung onto his leg, and the intruder continued in broken sobs, “Sweet Master Regulus is… kind of enough… to remember old Kreacher!”

“Settle down for a second, Kreacher,” Regulus patted the sobbing creature attached to his leg, “What are you doing here in Azkaban?”

“Kreacher has longed for this moment for so long, Master Regulus. Kreacher was sent to this most vile and retched place to bring Master home, at last!”

Regulus heard what the elf said, but he waited for everything to snap back into reality; to find himself jerked from the corners he sometimes found himself buried deep within the Darkness. It usually went similarly, and sometimes a happy version of his mother would be with Kreacher, too. And after his infamous escape, he often imagined Sirius would come along, as well.

That’s what usually woke him up, when things started becoming too good to be true.

So, he waited. Until something started pulling on his hand.

“Master!”

“What?”

“Kreacher was asking if Master Regulus was ready to go?”

“Kreacher there must’ve been a mistake, I was sentenced for life. You can’t be here,” Regulus said, and waited for Kreacher’s voice to fade away as it always did in every dream he has had before.

“Then Master Regulus must’ve not heard!” Kreacher’s voice remained loud and insistent, “The great Albus Dumbledore has sent a secret letter to the Wizengamot before he died, informing them of the magnificent help Master Regulus’s information had on the downfall of the Dark Lord. And when the war ended, they brought Kreacher to testify on Master’s behalf and Kreacher told the Wizengamot of how brave Master Regulus helped the professor and of how Master Regulus was very kind when Kreacher was poorly.

“Then the Wizengamot decided that Master Regulus has served enough time and was most honorable and has never tried to escape when most of the other prisoners did. Master Regulus is now free to come home!” 

He tried to relish the wonderful feeling that rushed through him with Kreacher’s words; he could wake-up any second to hear a guard kicking the rails of his cell.

But Kreacher’s voice and presence around his leg persisted. The elf kept going about how he had prepared his favorite meal and had his room scrubbed clean and ready for his return.

“The Master said that Kreacher was to bring Master Regulus home, and he sent for Azkaban to prepare a room for Kreacher to see Master Regulus, so Master Regulus wouldn’t have to stand outside. The Maser said the sun does terrible things to the ones who have been in Azkaban for too long.”

“The Master?” Regulus couldn’t help but ask.

“Master Sirius!” Kreacher answered with a proud tilt to his tone.

No dream of his has ever come this far; not even his Darkness could be that hopeful.

_Perhaps…_

“Kreacher,” Regulus said, trying not sound too hopeful, “Take me home.”

“At once, Master Regulus!” Kreacher said as he held Regulus’s hand with both of his own and apparated away.

The sensation apparition felt like it was something familiar from another lifetime, but apparently not familiar enough to not have him empty the meagre content of his stomach as soon as he arrived.

A small hand, Regulus assumed was Kreacher’s, patted his shoulder and held his hair back as he heaved. After he finished, the elf snapped his fingers and Regulus was instantly cleaner; and he was more than grateful for the glass of water that was pushed toward his lips.

Someone cleared their throat, “I should’ve thought of that.”

The voice registered with Regulus much faster than he would have liked to admit; it sounded almost nothing like the last time he heard it from the deranged man that screamed vengeance form the cell next to his. But it was the most familiar voice he has heard in a while.

“Yeah,” Regulus rasped, “But nobody is perfect.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, you don’t look so well.”

“I haven’t exactly been groomed in a while, have I?” Snapped Regulus.

“I didn’t mean that; I meant you look like you’re about to faint and your eyes have been blankly staring at the wall across from me this entire time.”

He sounded concerned. 

Regulus never imagined his reunion with Sirius would be filled with hugs and apologies, but to have his brother see him for the first time in years on the floor of their house sick and blind was a bit excessive.

Regulus lost all the pretense of trying to seem like he was not in fact blind and started to feel around him until he found a wall and leaned against it; hoping he was at least facing the right direction. 

“Well, that’s how my life turned out, brother, how has yours?”

Sirius gave a chuckle, “Not bad. I found out that my brother was a secret spy and a hero, which was a nice surprise.”

“Then, Dumbledore must’ve been exaggerating,” Regulus scoffed at the idea.

“Yes,” Sirius said, “That’s what I kept telling the Wizengamot, but they wouldn’t believe me!”

Regulus’s was surprised at the sound of his own laugh. It was something long foreign to him even within his Darkness. 

_Perhaps there was still time to make things right._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THE END*
> 
> I have no explanation to how Sirius survived the DOM, other than I wanted him to :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting along, you've been wonderful <333
> 
> Let me know what you think!


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